Page 20 of Surviving the Break
He grunted, roughly yanking at his bowtie. “I thought you didn’t play games, Ash.”
“I don’t—”
“Then what the hell do you call all this?” He threw his hands up before giving me his back.
“My unreliable working hours being the reason I didn’t take part in the auction was the truth. And I never said I wouldn’t try my best to be here if I could, and I never said I wouldn’t bid on you. I’m not a liar.” I was offended by his suggestion.
“And you never thought to clue me in to your plans?” He whirled around with his voice raised.
The conversation began to spiral. “Last night—”
“Should never have happened.” He ran both hands through his styled hair. “You don’t even know me,” he whispered.
“So you keep saying.” I matched his fervor with my own. “But I know you’d lay down your life for your dog, that you emotionally andfinanciallysupport the transition of a child that isn’t your own. And I know your pearl is a symbol to find the good in people, and you go in search of it when you need a reminder because you no longer trust your own instincts.” My passion had carried me so close into Max’s space that our noses nearly touched, and the fan of his breath met my lips from his panting, open mouth. I took a painful step back when all I wanted to do was close the distance between our lips. His hand trailed toward his neck subconsciously, and he clenched his fist when my eyes followed the movement. “You can trust that I don’t mean you harm, Max.”
His lashes brushed against his cheek, and his mouth twisted with indecision.
The overhead light flickered. We were sucking up all the energy in the room. It crackled along my skin. “Tell me you don’t feel that.”
He squared his shoulders. “This stops now.”
Why was he so bullheaded? “Max—”
He held a hand up to silence me. “Stop.” The word echoed off the cavernous walls of the auditorium. “Just stop.”
My nostrils flared, but I issued a hard nod.
“I’ve changed the schedule. Only my hours are affected because I know your time isn’t as flexible. I’ve made it so we don’t need to cross paths while here.” His voice turned granite. “I need you tostop.”
And with that, he left me standing there to bleed.
IRETURNED HOME,stopping in the middle of the kitchen, tossing my phone onto the island, and then allowing my head to fall between my shoulders.
“Fuck.” I ripped my clothes away, punishing the material for the disaster the night had turned out to be. I had hoped things would’ve been different after our heated exchange in that restroom. Optimistically certain that I was one grand gesture shy from Max giving in. I’d never been more wrong in my life. What happened between us served as a setback. I wanted to get closer to him, but my only success was in pushing him away.
Now naked, I turned in circles. Kicking at the pile of clothes near my feet. I’d miscalculated the hold that Max’s past had on him. Arrogant of me to believe that whatever had been done to him could be undone by my want alone. Defeat had rarely been a thing I surrendered to, but there came a point when the constant push of good intentions turned good men into the enemy. In that auditorium, a change came over Max. I was no longer a thing he struggled against succumbing to; instead, I became someone he looked forward to fighting against. And where he may have seemed pliable with a touch more consistency and forward momentum on my part, he now stood firm like the Rock of Gibraltar. There would be no moving him.
THE WEEKSthat followed were torture. During class instruction I found myself constantly distracted by footsteps in the hall. I’d stop speaking mid-sentence, my heart palpitating as I waited to see who approached. It wasn’t Max. It never was.
Today was no different. The CPR dummy lay across the table. The kids and I surrounded it. “The first thing you want to do is interlock your fingers like so,” I demonstrated, “and then lock your elbows…” My words trailed off at the sound of a light jingle, like coins knocking against each other, coming from down the hall. I knew that sound. “One second,” I told the kids, and with my heart in my throat, my long strides led me to the door, where an exuberant Pluto ran in, almost toppling me over. “Hey, you.” I sat on the floor allowing him to lick my face, nudge me with his nose, and whimper in delight as I rubbed him all over. The kids laughed at our boisterous display of affection. “Is that your dad?” I whispered in his ear at the sound of footsteps. I stood, and when Pete walked in, my eyes darted behind him in search of Max.
“It’s just me,” he said, unaware of how much those words gutted me.
“Oh.”
“I’m babysitting. Max went to the city to have lunch with Sam.”
Nice to know I wasn’t the only one suffering, I thought acerbically, and then felt guilty right after. Sam had been in a motorcycle accident the night of the fundraiser. Max was making time to be there for her during her recovery.
“Mr. Justin sent me down to tell you Damon was on his way here to see you. He said he tried calling to warn you, but your phone’s going straight to voicemail.”
Dealing with Damon was the opposite of what I needed right then. He’d demand I tell him everything and then make me listen to all the ways he planned to eviscerate Max. “Thanks.” He nodded and left, whistling for Pluto to follow. With one last look of longing and a scratch behind the ears from me, he went on his way. “We’ll finish up next week, kids.” They filed out of the room, and I quickly straightened up and grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair. I needed to get home to loathe in private.
Max’s truck idled in the parking lot a few cars down from mine. He wasn’t due in; no doubt he was only there to pick up Pluto. His arm rested on the open driver's side window, and with his head down, probably texting Pete, he hadn’t noticed me. “Max,” I said, and at the sound of my voice, he startled, bringing his wide-eyed stare to mine. He was tired. Proof visible in the lines etched at the corners of his mouth.
“Ash,” he breathed before his eyes flicked to Pluto, who ran to the open passenger door and hopped in. Not before brushing against the back of my calf in silent support. Max got him settled, then gave me a curt goodbye before pulling off.
Did I imagine the spark of heat my name rolling off his tongue produced behind his eyes? Either way, I’d do nothing about it. I’d rode the edge of his patience for too long. Still, how would it feel to have all that fire and passion beneath me?Behindme? It would do no good to wonder now. We were two opposing forces, one running toward a connection and the other running from it.
